


Hellfire

by yukiartsa



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: (for anyone who cares), I absolutely love it, M/M, Rating will go up, canon character death, inspired by "hellfire" from the hunchback of notre dame, such a good song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiartsa/pseuds/yukiartsa
Summary: “Then tell me, dear Father,Why I see him dancing there,Why those pure blue eyes still scorch my soulI feel himI see himThe sun caught in his lilac hairHas made me lose all sense of self control”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i spent too long thinking up how to change the original lyrics so i could relate back to the story...
> 
> broken up into ~~three~~ **four** parts because it's way too long to be posted all at once, so stay tuned for more (hopefully) next month.

The streets were swarming with beings of different attire and appearance; well-dressed, graceful Saiyans with flowing hair and a powerful aura, and the weaker, less fortunate humans who avoided their scrutiny as best as they could. Broly felt unsure of who he should fear more; the domineering air let off by his race was frightening for the timid Saiyans, but his father had warned him against mingling with the humans.

He watched the back of his father, the Saiyan clad in white silk hunched over, passing on a prayer to a statue that appeared to be of some importance to this city. While the raven’s knowledge was limited, he could recognise the stature of their king carved from marble, arms crossed before his people.

The scale was certainly enlarged, Broly noted, meeting only the elbows of the depicted figure, and he looked over the sculpture with a faint sigh. He’d seen plenty of pictures of King Vegeta, knew how livid his father was for being banished by the king before, and had returned under the guise of a passionate follower of the royal lineage.

Broly recalled many years ago, when the previous king had decreed the Saiyans to be superior, although the humans were the brains where they were the brawns. Initially, his speech presented during his coronation was taken poorly, until he established a hierarchy that divided the two races’ power, although in favour of the Saiyans.

The king was to have the final say in all matters; disputes were resolved by strength, and Saiyans were given more luxury than the humans for their skills in defence. Humans, on the other hand, while undervalued for their worth, were considered leading figures in change and innovation. Art, culture, language, literature, sport, they provided for the lifestyles of society, and while they lacked representation for their work, they were protected by the Saiyans to the extent that they could live independently.

Any and all complaints had to be taken to the king — typically, the king was against change, however. The news of his son taking a human woman as his wife was one of few matters he allowed. At the time, Broly’s father, Paragus, had served the king, and shared his concerns with permitting such acts.

When his opinion was ignored, the Saiyan attempted to rebel, but was ultimately forced to leave the city with his son, only a few years of age at the time. The prince had a child of his own, but this news had outraged both Saiyans and humans — it was considered both shameful, and pathetic.

The king finally abdicated due to his dwindling support, and his son took power, cutting off ties with his human wife and newborn child. While this pleased the majority of the population, numerous cases of half-Saiyans arose, and the matter was taken into question as something that could be viewed as a sign of good.

“Come, Broly.” His father’s voice echoed in Broly’s mind, the taller Saiyan watched the man wipe his mouth of saliva, before shuffling past his son. After the prayer, he’d spat on the statue to show his dislike for Vegeta, and the bloodline.

Even with a new lead in power, the king was still in favour of Saiyans and humans in relationships, an opinion Paragus was still adamant to agree with.

The male nodded solemnly, following his father’s back as best he could through the sifting crowd of faces. As his thoughts begun to waver, however, the reality of the situation hit Broly abruptly; the noise, a dozen voices yelling and crying all around him, to the point where he felt like his brain was going to explode. It all rung in his ears, pierced his mind, and he was forced to stop, leaning against a wall for support.

Having spent most of his life away from society as a whole, living with his father in a cottage outside of civilisation and having almost no involvement with another living soul, his empty mind was suddenly drowning in sound and noise from a powerful source that he was unable to control.

His father had warned him about being alone for too long; almost like an involuntary fear mechanism, the Saiyan felt weak, his energy sapped, and in an attempt to solve this, his body begun to overexert itself. Increased heart rate, faster breathing, blood fizzing through his veins at the incredible pace he forced his body to go through, and energy beginning to climb.

He didn’t know what to do in this situation, much like the first time it had occurred. What had he done then? All those years ago, when he first entered the city, and was overwhelmed by the deafening sound, what had kept his power from overtaking his better judgement?

It was as if he was stuck in a cycle, and his power growth couldn’t be controlled, instead forced against his will.

His body burnt, his lungs ached, but the strength he felt was numbing. He couldn’t feel it, where was it all? He’d just have to gain more, more, until he felt strong enough…

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice was soft, almost loving, but the owner was unknown to Broly. He felt a cold hand press against his arm, a kind face forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Just breathe, alright? Deep breaths, in and out.”

Broly’s vision was cloudy; colours seemed to mesh together, but the startling lavender hair stood out to him. It was both confronting, seeing such a gentle colour in a bustling place, and reassuring, oddly enough, that he kept his eyes locked onto it, slowly obeying the stranger’s instructions. Their voice was trusting, and, like the lavender blurred by his disorientated sight, reassuring.

“Good, that’s good. Breathe in…and out.” The stranger did the same as Broly, as if to lead him through it. “How are you feeling?”

Broly grumbled something incoherent, a sound rather than an actual word. He shut his eyes for a moment, recollecting his thoughts. When he opened them, he found that he’d been taken into a side alley, the sounds that tormented him now of minor concern and volume.

He looked over the stranger who had come to his aid. A thin, sunkissed figure clad in loose, fluttery garments of clothing — a pair of baggy pants and a vest covering the top half of his chest were all that covered him — and bangles on both wrists that were connected to pale lengths of fabric, hung from his wrists, and connected to the bottoms of his pants.

The compelling lavender hair fell to his shoulders, framing a pair of sapphire eyes and soft, pillowy lips; his outfit, coloured in similar shades of light purple, made Broly think he was looking at a female, rather than a male.

 _That’s right…_ The Saiyan vaguely remembered seeing a person of similar appearance back then, a boy who danced in the sunlight with such life that it calmed his mind, despite the lack of respect fellow citizens gave him.

The young teen’s voice lacked the pitch of a girl, and Broly was rather thankful for that; instead of having a painful screech, he spoke with a warm, neutral voice, whilst still possessing such a fine body, and…

He realised how his thoughts had begun to linger around the male’s physique, and he quickly averted his gaze. “T-Thank you for helping me out earlier.”

Broly felt rude for eyeing the stranger’s body, as if he were to compare them with the child from all those years ago. Surely that boy had found a better path to take, rather than to perform on the streets for the rest of his youth. But it was still a possibility that he could be facing that same boy, now a teenager, whom he had treasured with all his heart, although now, his thoughts entered new territory that was far from innocent…

“You looked like you were about to pass out,” they answered with a smile, unaware of the Saiyan’s inner turmoils. “Do you have a name?”

“I-I’m Broly…”

“Trunks. Pleased to meet you,” the younger replied. “You can find me practically anywhere, I’m a dancer. I perform wherever I can, to whoever I can.”

The Saiyan nodded, although the clarification of his clothing still hadn’t set his mind at ease; it merely increased the likelihood of Trunks being that same dancer as the one he’d seen. “Ah, m-my father is probably worried about me, I…”

“He was headed towards the palace,” Trunks commented. “He was surprised to see you missing, but I think he’s expecting to meet you there. I can show you the way if you’d like.”

Broly begun to nod, before a question came into his mind. “H… How did you know where he was going, Trunks?” The name felt strange, as if something was missing, but he didn’t think to mention this.

“I saw you two over by that statue of the king during a performance, and I figured you were travelling together,” he explained. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting much longer, don’t you think?”

Without allowing Broly a chance to respond, Trunks had taken him by the hand and begun to lead him through the crowds of people, who moved away from the dancer as if he had some kind of personal space that couldn’t be intruded upon.

While Broly was surprised that he could no longer hear the noise around him, and how Trunks was able to manoeuvre through this sea of people with ease, his thoughts lingered on what the dancer had said about watching he and his father amidst a performance.

_How did he see me amidst the crowd, whilst he was performing for them? And why did he come and help me in the first place?_

Broly questioned these facts for a moment, before he was given a genuine smile from the dancer, one that was burned into his memory. He held Trunks’ hand tighter, willing away the colour from his cheeks.

Even if they’d have to part, he wouldn’t forget that smile anytime soon; the way it made his heart flutter was a new sensation that he wouldn’t want to lose.

 

* * *

 

Trunks lead the Saiyan through quiet alleyways, sneaking past open windows and gossiping women as if this was second nature to him. Broly, in comparison, awkwardly hobbled along, pulled forward, but unable to duck down like the dancer could.

“W-Why are you trying so hard to keep hidden, Trunks?” Broly whispered once the route seemed clear, and the path devoid of life.

“It’d just be a hassle to have you dragged into my problems,” the teen explained, as if the answer was enough to satisfy the Saiyan.

“Problems? W-What problems? Are you--“

Trunks froze, the Saiyan picking up on faint voices approaching. The lavender-haired teen cursed under his breath and pulled the raven through a different passageway. Before the Saiyan could ask, Trunks had let go of his hand.

Broly turned, facing the dancer sizing up a brick wall in front of them; moss clung to the gaps as if it held the wall together, and the clay glittered from fresh rain that had fallen the day before.

 _It certainly isn’t impossible to clear,_ Broly thought to himself, _but it would be difficult for someone like Trunks to pull himself up._

“Can you climb over this, Broly?” The teen asked after a moment of thinking.

The Saiyan simply nodded; his strength was incomparable despite his lanky figure. Scaling this wall would be easy for him. “What about you?”

“I think I can,” came the teen’s response, before he took a running start at it. He leapt up, reaching for the top, but his feet slid against the wet stone, and he fell down before he could even attempt to pull himself up. “… Seems I can’t. We’ll just take a different route, then—“

 _“Ah, I’m tired…”_ The voices from earlier were drawing closer; there wasn’t a chance for them to turn back.

Trunks swore again, and took another go at the wall; every attempt had as little success as the first try. While Broly wasn’t certain why Trunks feared to be seen, especially as a dancer, he felt uneasy seeing him stressed out over this.

As Trunks fell to the ground once more, he was surprised to feel an arm wrap around his waist. He looked to Broly in surprise, as the Saiyan cradled him in his left arm. The raven leapt at the wall, and managed to pull him and Trunks over with his right hand with very little difficulty.

They landed in time to hear the crunch of boots entering the dead end they’d surpassed. Two Saiyans stood on the other side… Their ki was nothing outstanding, but Broly could recognise their scent; as primal as it sounded, Broly recalled this smell of mud and smoke from royal soldiers on more than one occasion. Personal hygiene was the least of their concerns, even while on duty.

“What’re you complaining about this time?” The other Saiyan muttered. They were likely using this blind spot to take a break, free from the scrutiny of the public eye.

“That stupid order from the king, how he wanted us to locate his brat.”

“You’re still on about that?”

“It’s been, what, six months? And nobody’s heard a thing about her or the mother. It’s like, _poof_ , and they were never here to begin with.”

“The kid’s alive, and that’s why we’re still here,” his friend huffed. “People want proof of a half-Saiyan brat, and King Vegeta’s own brat is a perfect rep for that. The strength of a Saiyan, the smarts of a human.”

“Sheesh, you’d think someone would just say they’re the king’s spawn and get this stupid law passed or whatever.”

“Ha, then we’d be looking at a serious case of deja vu! Two kings booted off the throne because of a half-Saiyan!”

“How so? The king’s father dropped his position because people weren’t satisfied with him.”

“If King Vegeta comes out and claims some random half-Saiyan to be his kid, that’d automatically make them the next in power. If they aren’t crowned, then people’ll know he’s been lying to them, and he’ll be kicked out. The kid has to be the real thing if the king wants to hang onto his crown for a little longer.”

“I’m sure he will, it adds a couple more inches to him, after all.”

“Ahaha! You got that right!”

The two hiding remained silent during their conversation, although Broly hadn’t realised he was still holding Trunks until the teen attempted to squirm out amidst their talk.

“They’ll hear you if you try and move,” the Saiyan whispered to the smaller, and held him closer; Trunks was almost like a baby cradled by Broly’s arm, although his form was balled up, and he fidgeted in his spot uncomfortably.

“We can’t just stay here forever, though.”

“Are you afraid that they’ll catch you, or…?”

Broly noted how the dancer hesitated to respond. What was going on in his mind? What was it that made him so nervous in the presence of the soldiers?

The Saiyans conversation had reached a silent end after the jab at their king, and they murmured amongst themselves before Broly picked up their ki moving away, their boots clacking against the pavement as they returned to their rounds.

After ensuring they were safe from any further interruptions, Broly released the dancer tentatively. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but Trunks had the scent of strawberries in his hair; it lingered in the air around him, and he only realised its source once Trunks put some distance between them.

It also felt very… _pleasant_ holding him like that. Was it because of his gentle form? His soft skin? Or was Broly just being stupid, and overthinking things? Surely that was a normal reaction…

“We’re almost to the palace,” Trunks murmured to the Saiyan, ready to move before pausing. Broly noticed the dancer hadn’t met his gaze since the Saiyan soldiers had disappeared; had he done something to offend Trunks?

The teen held out his hand expectantly, and Broly took it with a smile; it felt warmer than before, and a little sweaty, too. He must’ve felt uncomfortable, curled up like that, the Saiyan assumed. It was likely quite embarrassing as well, since his earlobes had begun to redden.

The walk towards the palace felt arduous, as neither of them said a thing. Broly wondered what he could do to make it up to Trunks; he’d dragged him out all this way, and now he might’ve offended him in some way, but he hadn’t the foggiest of what that was.

“Trunks, I’m sorry.”

The Saiyan stopped abruptly, pulling the teen back towards him. The dancer’s face was still flushed with colour — did he have a fever? Broly wasn’t sure at this point — as he was twirled back and forced to meet the Saiyan.

Trunks blinked after a moment, tentatively letting go of Broly’s hand. “H-Huh? What are you apologising for?”

“I feel like I said or did something to offend you, and I wanted to apologise…” Broly explained, bowing his head. “You’ve been very kind to me, and I…”

“Y-You didn’t do anything wrong, Broly!” Trunks blurted out, surprised at himself for saying that.

The Saiyan watched Trunks brush away a strand of loose hair and tuck it behind his ear. The teen fidgeted with the hem of his vest, before taking a deep breath. “N-Not many Saiyans are as thoughtful and considerate as you are, Broly. I’m… surprised.”

Broly smiled, shaking his head. “Well, you’ve helped me, so I thought I should return the favour.”

“I don’t mean that,” Trunks explained, staring into space. “I’m a half-Saiyan, if you couldn’t tell… Most Saiyans don’t like me because I’m more human than I am a Saiyan.”

If Broly was being honest, he hadn’t thought Trunks to be anything other than human. The more time he spent, however, looking over Trunks’ body, the more it begun to make some sense. Even with his small, lanky figure, the dancer seemed capable of holding his own in a fight.

“It doesn’t make us any different,” the raven murmured, awkwardly shrugging. “I don’t like to fight if I can help it, but I’m still a Saiyan through and through. The only real difference is the tail, I guess. Otherwise, we’re actually pretty similar to half-bloods and humans.”

He was unsure if that was what Trunks wanted to hear, but if the small chuckle from the dancer was any indication, then he believed he’d succeeded in his task.

“Yeah, I guess we aren’t that different then, if you put it like that,” the teen mused, a genuine smile crossing his face. The warmth of his expression made Broly’s heart flutter a little; he hadn’t met anyone who looked more beautiful when smiling as they did normally. Trunks was the first person who met that standard.

The dancer linked hands with the Saiyan once more, walking beside him with that same smile plastered on his face as if it belonged there. The pair were quiet once more, although Broly preferred this more than he had earlier; Trunks’ smile made the world seem softer than what he remembered it as.

The two slipped out of the alley and into the square, the number of faces around them now trickled down compared to earlier. Trunks squeezed Broly’s hand as a sign of reassurance, before leading him through the crowd. As if Trunks had some kind of barrier, slipping past people was an easy task; they all seemed to make way for the dancer and Broly to pass through, until they stood before in the palace grounds, opened freely for the public.

A fountain was situated in the middle of the display, streams glittering in the sunlight, with the palace itself providing a beautiful backdrop. Small gardens and flowering bushes wrapped around like a maze, although even a child could peer over them to find their way out.

Broly spotted Paragus waiting for him by the fountain, and met Trunks with a bow. “T-Thank you for helping me get here, Trunks.”

“It’s no problem,” Trunks answered, “it was actually fun. I hope I can see you again sometime, Broly~”

The Saiyan nodded, watching him disappear into the crowd. Broly smiled a little, before he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Paragus must’ve been waiting for some time, as he looked relieved to see his son had made it in one piece.

“I’m glad you managed to find your way here, son,” he mused. “I was worried when I’d lost you earlier.”

“I was helped out by someone, Broly replied, cautious in sharing too much about Trunks. To have followed a stranger, a half-Saiyan no less (Paragus still loathed the cross-breeds, although Broly didn’t understand why), through back alleys… His father might force him to stay away from Trunks if he found out.

Thankfully, his father hadn’t pressed the matter further, now leading him to the palace entrance. Two Saiyans stood guard, eyeing Paragus with clear disdain. It was understandable; he’d been banished by the previous king, what reason would he have to return now?

“We have a meeting with King Vegeta,” Paragus explained, “that is, my son and I.” He gestured to Broly, who gave a stiff bow in response. The soldiers looked Broly over, before meeting Paragus once more.

“You still remember where the throne room is, do you not?” One of them asked, as they moved aside to give the pair entry.

“Of course. Come, Broly, we mustn’t keep His Highness waiting any longer.”

Paragus strode past the two, brushing off their simmering glares, with the taller Saiyan making sure to keep close. Broly glanced at his surroundings; there was nothing of real interest, just numerous halls built of stone and brick, some adorning flags and banners, some with furniture, although sparse.

“This place hasn’t changed in the slightest,” Paragus murmured aloud, although it was only heard by Broly. Instinctively, Broly nodded, although he hadn’t ever been inside the castle walls. If his father was correct, and nothing had changed, Broly had to wonder if half these rooms had even been touched.

He followed his father into a spacious hall, decorated much more than the rest of the palace, although not by much. The main focus was the throne in the centre of it; a lush, gold seat that sat above everyone else; the steps leading up to it were carpeted in deep blues with gold trims, and columns surrounded them like a crowd watching their every movement.

Sitting in the throne was the king himself. While Broly had never met the previous king before, he’d heard many descriptions from his father, and it appeared his son was a spitting image of the former monarch. Like the statue back in town, the man appeared to be shorter than even his father, and Broly had to wonder if such a trait was common in the royal bloodline. His hair was spiked to give him at least an extra foot of height, although in return, his fringe forced into sharp curves, similar to that of a widow’s peak.

Vegeta was clad in Saiyan battle armour, a cape, and his crown could be seem poking through tufts of his hair, although primarily swallowed by the black forest it was held in. He almost appeared frozen, until he shifted in his seat at the sight of Paragus; it was just his face was stone, a crease in his brow and a scowl that only darkened as the man knelt before him.

Broly copied his father’s actions, although he kept meeting the king’s onyx eyes that seemed to burn into them like hot coals. He had his doubts that Paragus had organised this meeting, and instead lied to the guards to meet the king in private. The tension in the air seemed to suggest that this wasn’t going to be a friendly meeting.

“My liege.”

“Paragus. I thought you’d be dead by now, but you’re still alive, and lugging around a meat shield while you’re at it.”

“That is my son, Broly, Your Highness.”

Vegeta made a displeased sound, clicking his tongue at the man’s response. “The boy looks as incapable as you. Can’t he speak for himself?

“Ah, Broly is a rather…passive Saiyan, King. Please, forgive him for being so mild-natured.”

“Hm. Here’s hoping he doesn’t grow into a fool like you, Paragus.” Said Saiyan gritted his teeth, unable to respond to that harsh comment due to the current situation; he was here to make himself useful to the king, after all. “So what brings you and the glass half-full out of the hole you dug, Paragus? My time is limited.”

Paragus cleared his throat. “My lord, I wish to offer mine and Broly’s services to you and the kingdom. We heard that you were looking for your heir, and Broly wanted to assist however possible.”

“And what about you?” Vegeta snapped, hoping to end this conversation as soon as possible. “I recall how opposed you were to my father’s ideas of humans and Saiyans coexisting together. I also recall how poorly you treated my offspring, my wife and I as a result of that.”

“The past is in the past, my Lord,” Paragus replied; he’d been caught off guard with Vegeta’s memory of the past, and how the Saiyan had openly condemned the existence of Vegeta and his human spouse. It appeared that he still harboured hatred for Paragus for his statements years earlier. “I have changed my way of thinking, and now I wish nothing more than to offer you my assistance.”

“Oh? Well, what a convenience,” Vegeta stated smugly. “Grand Vizier Nappa passed away a year ago, and we have yet to find a replacement; I’m _certain_ you’ll appreciate my generous offer, _won’t you_ , Paragus?”

The Saiyan faked a smile, before responding, “Of course, King Vegeta, I would be proud to accept such a position, if you find me worthy of such a title.” Although the title of “Grand Vizier” sounded important, his role was ultimately to cater to the king and provide assistance where needed. Paragus had been in a similar position whilst under the service of Vegeta’s father, although he had no doubt this would be _much_ worse.

“Then it’s settled. Unfortunately, we have no rooms to accomodate the two of you in the palace,” Vegeta explained (although it was a clear lie), “so I ask that you both return here at the crack of dawn tomorrow for the start of your duties?”

“Yes, as you wish, Your Highness.”

“Good; you are dismissed.”

The two Saiyans got to their feet, Paragus once again leading the way; he bowed to Vegeta, before making his way to the exit. Broly copied his father’s actions, although he felt the man watch him, much like earlier, and he could sense his gaze following him even as he left the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BECAUSE I JUST FINISHED WATCHING PART 3 OF EPISODE 60 ~~AND CRIED~~ HERE YOU GO FAM  <3

The relationship between humans and Saiyans was a fragile one, that of which still had numerous unresolved matters that left either side with a sense of loathing to the other. While humans were vastly superior in terms of knowledge, Saiyans had attempted to take their inventions, slaughter the humans, and use them for their own benefit. However, when it became clear that they hadn’t the foggiest on how to use or build said inventions, the Saiyans had to impose a treaty if they wanted to prosper.

While the human race was understandably bitter about the Saiyans’ actions, as the weakest race, they had very little option when it came to making relations with a warrior race. Opposing races would likely wipe out humans with even less understanding of their inventions than the Saiyans themselves.

Building negotiations was difficult for the two races — Saiyans had to remain in power if they wanted to protect and fight, but humans did not want to become slaves, mistreated and undervalued. The Saiyan monarch, the previous king, had decided to incorporate a system of power that would provide some kind of stability to their newly formed relationships.

Whilst humans were incapable of fighting, they were to be treated with respect; without their input, both races were likely to crumble. Although they lacked as much brute force in comparison to the Saiyans, humans were entrusted to provide a system of “politics” that would report to the Saiyan king, who would make the final decision.

The idea of “half-Saiyans” hadn’t been a matter of concern until the discovery of the prince (and current king, Vegeta) having a child with a human woman. As soon as Vegeta took power, he and his family were separated by his own volition, for the sake of public favour.

As more cases of half-Saiyans begun to arise, however, the idea was taken into consideration by both races. Some agreed with the idea, some despised it, and their king was caught in the crosshairs of it all.

“While I have yet to conceive a full-blooded Saiyan heir of my own,” Vegeta explained to Broly and Paragus the next morning, “the matter still remains that the public wants to hear my thoughts on this. To my knowledge, they are still alive.”

Broly shifted in his spot, almost irritated at how he addressed his former spouse and offspring as “they”, as if he would rather they never existed in the first place.

“The woman means little to me, but my offspring is what concerns me. While I doubt they'll try to take power, if I wish to share my opinion to the people of half-Saiyans, there wouldn’t be a more suitable person than my own child.”

“My Lord, if I may,” Paragus chimed in.

“What is it.”

“Rumour speculates that if you are in favour of half-Saiyans, you shall accept them as your heir… If this is not the case, and you are against half-Saiyans, what would you do then?”

“Are you asking for my opinion on half-Saiyans here and now, Paragus?”

“Not at all, my liege. I simply must ask what you will do if we bring your child here and you do not accept them as your heir.”

Vegeta’s response was firm, without hesitation: “I would obviously kill them before the masses.”

Broly’s fists balled up, and he forced himself to keep quiet; how could he say that without hesitation?! To kill his own child because they were a half-blooded Saiyan, what good would come from that?

“Broly, you are now dismissed; my only task for you is to locate the whereabouts of my offspring and bring them to me, preferably alive.”

“… Of course, Your Highness,” the Saiyan answered, thankful to be given permission to leave before he lashed out at the king. Broly caught a glimpse of his father approaching the king, but he didn’t dare face Vegeta. Like Paragus had done to the statue yesterday, Broly would spit on the man if he even looked at him.

As the raven made his way out of the palace grounds and into the square, the sounds of cheerful, light-hearted music echoed from across the plaza, through a swarm of faces. The song was pleasant, and it set the Saiyan at ease a little. His thoughts drifted to Trunks, and he wondered if the teen was performing here, and if he was the reason such a crowd had amassed.

Broly shuffled past the onlookers through to the front, surprised at the number of people watching on; old, young, humans, Saiyans, male and female, the variety was extraordinary, although they all shared the same enraptured, enthusiastic expression. It was understandable, Broly realised, as he met eyes with the performer; Trunks was dancing with a flourish in his step to a song being played on a device he didn’t recognise.

While the tune wasn’t as smooth or clear as Broly had first thought, the orchestra of instruments all catered to an upbeat, playful melody that had everyone smiling and cheering before Trunks, who moved around with a beaming smile plastered on his face.

Trunks’ expression, Broly could practically see the boy from all those years ago dancing before him with that same look; he’d been ecstatic to have an audience, and the smile was contagious both then and now, as the Saiyan hummed, caught up in the pleasant setting.

As the song begun to wind down, Trunks gave the crowd one final, graceful spin, before bowing to them, still in a perfect pirouette as he did so. The raucous applause surprised Broly and brought him out of his thoughts, although the sound of the music still rung in his ears and quietened the sudden noise. Trunks was tossed numerous coins and such, as he begun to pack up his equipment.

Broly awkwardly approached the dancer, collecting the remaining coins as Trunks caught his breath. “Your dance was really good, Trunks.”

“Thank you,” the teen replied, still grinning stupidly. It was almost infectious, and Broly would’ve been smiling himself, had the device Trunks used to play his music not caught his eye.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? You’ve never seen a music box before?”

Broly shook his head, as Trunks picked up the device; it appeared to be an ordinary wooden box with a handle protruding from one side, before Trunks turned the handle a little, for part of the song playing in response.

The Saiyan stared at it in curiosity, examining it carefully. It wasn’t incredibly heavy, nor big, so how did it play music like that?

“I made it myself,” the dancer explained, stashing his coins.

“R-Really? How?”

“I can show you if you’d like.”

The raven smiled, instead shaking his head. “I probably wouldn’t understand it regardless.”

“Well, I do need to take it home, so you could come with me, if you’d like.”

If that wasn’t an invitation asking for Broly’s company, then the Saiyan was unsure what was. He accepted the dancer’s offer, and carried the music box for him, as Trunks skipped ahead of him, striking a pose every so often, before looking to Broly for some kind of reaction.

“You must really enjoy dancing, Trunks,” the Saiyan murmured, as Trunks twirled in place.

“Hm, I guess so. I’ve never really thought about it before.” He begun to walk in time with Broly, leading him into an isolated, darker part of the city. “I just tend to…forget about things whenever I’m performing, that sometimes I don’t even realise I’ve been dancing in the first place.”

Broly smiled a little, as Trunks stopped before a short set of descending stairs. “This is where I live,” he explained with a smile, gesturing to the surroundings. Compared to the bright, friendly heart of the city, the buildings around them were made of darker stone, with very few windows or lights to brighten up the place. While the buildings were tall, it seemed like the area was mostly abandoned.

“My mother and I live here, it’s not too bad,” the teen murmured, collecting his music box, before gesturing that Broly follow him inside. The Saiyan, although cautious because of his size, followed Trunks into his home, ready to crouch down if necessary.

He was surprised, however, to learn that the space was much more open than he’d anticipated. The roof (more specifically, floorboards from the house above theirs) was mostly pulled away, and save for a few pieces hanging from the edges of the “roof”, the room was incredibly tall, so much so that Broly could stand without worries. The floor space was simpler, however, as a workbench, a bed, a closet, a small kitchen space, and what Broly assumed to be another bedroom and an adjoining bathroom closed off by a curtain, were all that filled the room.

The bed (presumedly Trunks’) was mostly untouched, its linens of mediocre quality. In comparison to the fabrics that made up his costume, the bed appeared to be worthless with its thin sheets, thick fur blankets and awkward pillow.

Trunks sat the music box over on the workbench, before emptying his pockets with the coins he’d collected. “Mom, I brought a guest over. Would you mind coming out to greet him?”

Broly hadn’t realised that Trunks’ parent was even in the house with how quiet it was, and he blinked in surprise as the curtain slid open, and a woman peered at Broly curiously. “Oh? Why this is a first, even for you, Trunks.”

She scuttled out from her den, seemingly sizing Broly up. The woman’s firm ocean blue eyes and unwavering scowl made Broly tense. While she didn’t appear to have ill intentions, she seemed rather cautious of the Saiyan coming into her house without prior warning.

“Mom, this is Broly,” the teen sighed, realising that his mother would not let up until he’d cleared things up. “I told you about him, remember?”

“This is him?” She asked, looking the Saiyan over once more, before a grin settled on her features. “Looks like you caught a good one, Trunks.”

“M-Mom!” The dancer’s cheeks darkened, drawing out a pleased laugh from his mother.

“Oh calm down, Trunks, I was just teasing!” She wiped her hand on her pants before holding it out to Broly. “I’m Bulma, by the way. Trunks has told me a lot about you.”

While he was uncertain of why Trunks was getting so flustered over this, the Saiyan shook her hand carefully, nodding. “I-It’s nice to meet you, Miss. Thank you for letting me into your home.”

“It’s no problem, don’t worry about it. Feel free to stop by anytime, and we can get to know each other better~”

Broly could only smile weakly, curious about why she seemed insistent on getting to know him better… Regardless, she seemed rather friendly, and he was glad to have met her.

“I’m assuming you two are going out?” Bulma asked her son offhandedly, drawing out another flustered reaction from Trunks.

“I-I— W-We’re not, Mom! Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Aw, loosen up a bit, Trunks!” Bulma laughed. “I mean that you two will be together. Take care of him, Broly, bring him back before midnight if you can.”

“T-That doesn’t sound any better, Mom!” Trunks yelped, taking Broly by the wrist. “L-Let’s get going, Broly!”

“Have a good night, you two~” Bulma’s voice followed them out, the smile evident in her tone.

“D-Don’t say stuff like that, Mom, seriously!”

The woman’s pleased laughter followed the pair out of the house, the dancer feeling humiliated, whilst Broly looked back at Bulma curiously, as she disappeared back inside. “Your mother seems nice, Trunks. It was nice to meet her.”

The teen jolted at the sound of his name, and he faced Broly with a weak smile. “Ahaha, yeah, I guess she is...”

The Saiyan looked at the half-blood with very little expression; he hadn’t quite caught onto Bulma’s implications, nor had he pieced together the reasons for Trunks’ reaction. “Are you okay? Your cheeks are red.”

“I-I’m fine, really!” The teen laughed, although it was clear the Saiyan wouldn’t believe the hollow sound escaping him. Trunks, realising that he couldn’t keep avoiding the matter, swallowed nervously. “I… C-Can I take you somewhere, Broly?”

The Saiyan instinctively nodded, and let himself be pulled along by Trunks. His hesitation made Broly wonder what was on his mind, and what he could do to help; it was a strange feeling, he noted, as it gnawed in the back of his mind about what could be troubling the dancer.

He recalled the soldiers from their first meeting, and how nervous Trunks had been; was Trunks in trouble for something? What could he have possibly done wrong? And the king’s orders to locate his son, Broly wondered if Trunks was somehow connected to that… It was ridiculous, but not impossible, wasn’t it?

Trunks let go of his hand, bringing Broly back to the present; they’d ended up in another alley, the dancer standing before a ladder propped up to the roof of a building. “It’s just up here. Nobody ever comes down this way, so it’s easy to get to.”

Broly wanted to ask what he meant by _“up here”_ , before Trunks started climbing; the Saiyan pulled himself up as well, only a slight burst of flight in his jump to get him over the edge, before he landed beside Trunks, who stood on the roof shingles with a beaming smile.

From where they stood, the labyrinth-like city lay before them, each rooftop within jumping distance, as if they could cheat the maze with little difficulty. Broly realised the city unfolded before them, as he noted how the walls of the city, along with the palace, cut out sections of the sun before them.

While it was still early in the day, people milled about with pleasant talk, animals called out to each other from afar, and tempting scents rose up to the pair who looked over it all like gods. Broly couldn’t help but smile, as he took a seat next to Trunks; this place was certainly breathtaking, it was no wonder Trunks was eager to show him this place.

“It’s a really pretty view at night time,” the teen murmured, crossing his legs. “I always like coming here by myself if I want to relax.”

“T-Thank you,” Broly added, “for showing me this place. It’s peaceful up here…”

“I thought you’d like it; beats running around the city all day, at least.”

The pair fell into silence, a warm breeze brushing over them both. Broly watched Trunks out of the corner of his eye, as if he was expecting some kind of drastic change. “What’s on your mind, Trunks?”

“Hm?”

“It seems like you always have something on your mind… I was wondering if I could help you out somehow.”

Trunks smiled and shook his head. “I mean, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Why not?”

The dancer sat up slightly, surprised at the honest response. Broly shifted, rolling over to face Trunks now. “Is it something you don’t want to talk about? Or…” The Saiyan paused, before cutting off that train of thought. “Never mind, it’s none of my business—”

Trunks sighed, knowing that he couldn’t lie to the Saiyan about this for much longer; he had to get this off his chest. “… ThetruthisIreallylikeyouBroly.”

The jumble of words made Broly smile. “I couldn’t understand a word of that, Trunks.”

“I have a crush on you, okay? There, I said it!” The dancer admitted, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve really liked you for… a really long time. Even before we met.”

Broly blinked; where was he supposed to start? “Since when? And why? I…”

“For years, you’ve been coming into the city to run errands, haven’t you?” Trunks explained, somewhat embarrassed. “When I was first starting, almost nobody came to watch me. I remember you were the first person to actually stop and watch, and you even gave me coins. It made me really happy, so… I’ve been keeping an eye out for you since then.”

The Saiyan was silent, his thoughts reeling. Trunks was still the same gentle, lively dancer Broly had seen all those years ago, although to have met him once more, with his heart at odds with his mind, was something he struggled to follow.

“S-Sorry, I know it’s kinda sudden,” Trunks added as silence crept in. “I just thought I should tell you; Mom’s been teasing me about it for years, after all.”

“Is that why you were so embarrassed before?”

Trunks simply nodded, his cheeks dark. He looked beautiful like this, Broly thought, flustered for only him to see. It made the Saiyan smile, and he shuffled to sit beside Trunks, quick to grab him by the arm before he could distance himself.

“I…think I like you too, Trunks,” came the raven’s quiet response, as he linked his hand with the dancer’s.

“You _think?_ ” The teen’s blush faded as he listened to Broly’s hesitant reply.

“I mean… What is it supposed to feel like?”

“Huh?”

“When you like someone, what does it feel like, Trunks?”

Broly’s question was innocent; it wasn’t a rejection, far from it, but Trunks realised the Saiyan had grown up in isolation, he still struggled to understand basic emotion. The dancer smiled a little, and looked out over the city. “Well, how do you feel when you’re holding my hand?”

The Saiyan was quiet for a minute, his eyes shut in thought. He finally opened them, looking to how they were now linked, as if he’d done so without realising. Broly quickly looked away, his cheeks tinted; at least Trunks wasn’t the only one who felt embarrassed about it.

“I… I’m afraid of letting go of your hand.” Broly admitted softly. “I… I want to see you dance and smile, I want to hear your voice and laughter, and I want to be with you for as long as I can… And I’m afraid if I let you go, I’ll lose you…”

Trunks’ face flared with colour once more, and he squeezed Broly’s hand in reassurance. “Okay… And if I said I wanted you to kiss me right now, what would you—“

The question was unnecessary; Broly hadn’t let Trunks finish before he’d pulled the dancer into his embrace, initiating an awkward, unplanned kiss. Broly had only kissed the corner of Trunks’ mouth before pulling away, as if taking it any further would be next to scandalous.

Broly swallowed nervously. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

The half-blood merely smiled, a small laugh escaping his lips. “I guess that answers your question, Broly.”

Broly smiled as well, hesitant in letting Trunks go. “Y-Yeah, I guess so… Do you… Can I kiss you again, Trunks?”

“Properly this time?” The dancer teased, although he wasn’t going to refuse the Saiyan’s request.

“I-I’ll try to…” Broly sounded almost embarrassed for his first attempt.

Trunks laughed in response, kissing the Saiyan on the cheek. “Now we’re even,” he said with a stupid grin, “neither of us managed it on our first time. So now we both do it right, or we don’t.”

The teen’s reasoning was ridiculous, some might comment, but it brought back some of Broly’s confidence, as he cautiously leaned toward Trunks, met by a slow, hesitant kiss. Their lips had barely even touched before the raven retreated, feeling his mouth in confusion.

“I-I felt something really soft…” Broly murmured, looking at Trunks nervously. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think… _kissing_ someone would feel like that.”

“You kissed the corner of my mouth earlier, though. How was that any different?”

The Saiyan shrugged, puzzled. “That one felt a lot more gentle and…” His voice turned to an embarrassed murmur. “I-I could feel how warm you were, I could smell strawberries in your hair, and I… It was really nice. N-Not that before was bad or anything! I—“

Broly’s attempts to rectify his statement wouldn’t be finished; Trunks let out an embarrassed groan, head between his knees. “T-That stupid shampoo…”

“Pardon, Trunks?”

“The strawberry scent came from my mom’s shampoo because I didn’t have anything else to use…” The teen explained, his face flushed. “I-It’s such a girly scent, but it’s all I had to use…”

“Is it?” Broly tilted his head. The line between masculine and feminine hadn’t been something he’d thought about before. “I think it suits you, Trunks. It’s a nice smell.”

Trunks’ form stiffened and he mumbled a quiet “thank you”, torn about how to feel in response to the comment. While it didn’t sound like he was mocking him for it, the compliment was…unusual, especially from a guy. But they were together now, so was it really that weird?

“Trunks?” Broly’s worried tone brought the dancer back to the present. His eyes had taken a gentle, softer tone, and it warmed Trunks’ heart to see the Saiyan concerned about him; despite appearances, Broly was a gentle soul who cared more than one would expect, especially for Trunks.

The teen smiled, sidling up to Broly. “Sorry, I was just thinking about some stuff.”

“Are you alright? You seemed pretty surprised by what I said… Did I offend you?”

“No, you didn’t, Broly,” Trunks replied with a laugh, “you didn’t offend me at all.”

To be complimented on something as random as the scent of his hair, Trunks couldn’t help the stupid grin plastered across his face. If he were in the Saiyan’s place, he’d likely say something as dumb and unexpected as that.

“That’s good…” The Saiyan smiled alongside the dancer, wrapping an arm around him to likely take in his scent once more now that he knew it was safe. “I’m glad…”

Trunks let Broly do what he wanted to, enjoying the warm embrace of the Saiyan, his soft breaths against his skin, and the quiet murmurs of civilisation unfolding before the pair. This kind of peace... He wanted to spend more time like this, together with the Saiyan…

“… Yeah, me too, Broly.”

 

* * *

 

Days soon became weeks, and weeks became months; even after four months of searching, the missing royal still hadn’t been located, and, Paragus noted, the king was growing uneasy as a result of this.

“Whenever someone reports to him, the bastard’s ready to kill them where they stand,” Paragus recalled to his son over their meal one night. “If he’s so determined to find the brat, then he would’ve told us what they look like, at least!”

“What do you mean, Father?”

The advisor looked to his son in momentary surprise, before he readjusted himself. The role of Grand Vizier appeared to be getting on his nerves, and it became common for Paragus to have a bottle of rum at the table (for himself, Broly couldn’t stand the stuff). A Saiyan recovered from the effects of inebriation faster than humans, but they were also rowdier as a result of the strong brew, a taste they hadn’t been familiar with before partnering with the weaker species.

“Vegeta knows next to nothing about his brat,” the man explained, pushing aside his plate to collect the bottle in front of him. “The kid and his human bitch went into hiding shortly after his father quit… He hardly got a look at her before he took the throne and had to shut out his family.”

Broly raised an eyebrow. “Her? Do you mean his partner?”

“His dumb brat,” came the older Saiyan’s reply. “That kid and his mother came past our place looking for somewhere to hide.” Paragus sighed, giving an awkward shrug as he leaned back into his chair. “At the time, I hadn’t given them much thought. They had money, they wanted to stay the night, so I let ‘em. I hadn’t even realised it was them until they left the next morning.”

“How did you find out?” Broly asked; how had his father forgotten all about this?

“When she was talkin’ to her brat,” Paragus murmured, staring into his bottle. “She called the kid “Truss” or something… I didn’t ask her about it, and I only realised that she was referring to her daughter once she was gone.”

The lanky Saiyan froze. _Truss_ … Did his father mishear the name _Trunks?_

“Why do you say it was a girl?”

Paragus looked up to his son; the younger had been still for a moment, his fists clenched, but upon asking his father, seemed to relax. He couldn’t care about his son’s reaction at this point, as his head throbbed with pain. He awkwardly begun to pull himself out from his chair, hugging the bottle for dear life.

“All Vegeta ever found out about his brat was that it was a girl. Nurses that delivered the kid told him that, and the kid’s been labelled as “Princess” ever since.”

Broly fell silent, even as his father stumbled away from the table. It was impossible; Trunks was a guy, Vegeta’s kid was supposedly a girl. But, at the same time, what if Vegeta had been lied to? What if, by some chance, his child was actually a boy, and he’d been misinformed this entire time?

“Princess… Trunks…” Broly tested the name on his tongue; it felt strange to say, but also natural, as if the title belonged. His cheeks darkened as he imagined how the half-Saiyan might look wearing a dress (he struggled to picture a female Trunks), and he shook his head free from this image, collecting the dishes.

It was just too much of a coincidence… Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as someone who works as a cashier at a supermarket, you get to know your veggies... whether or not it was intentional, truss is a type of tomato, which i'm using as trunks' "saiyan" name. he doesn't go by truss, like how goku doesn't go by kakarot, but i like to think that was the reason behind trunks' name (but idk for sure).
> 
>  
> 
> ~~he blushes as red as a tomato too, so it fits~~


	3. Chapter 3

To Broly’s relief, it didn’t seem like his father had any recollection of their conversation the night before. The following morning, he quizzed Broly, but didn’t ask about what he had told his son. “It doesn’t matter, I probably didn’t say anything that made sense,” Paragus stated, waving off his son’s questions.

Although it was a slight reassurance, Broly still anticipated his father would eventually catch onto his own train of thought, and start asking Trunks about his identity. That was something the Saiyan wanted to avoid at all costs.

Even if there was the slimmest of chances that Broly’s speculations were correct and Trunks was of royal blood, he wanted to distance Trunks and his father as much as possible. Aside from Paragus’ utter dislike for half-Saiyans, he also didn’t want to explain to his father about how he’d spent these last four months with Trunks rather than searching for Vegeta’s heir.

And speaking of the king, it appeared that he had as little knowledge about his offspring as what Paragus had told him. Upon asking him once they arrived at the palace, Vegeta’s face had scrunched up in confusion, before he begun to mull over what should be important information.

“My brat… Hm, well, I never met her in the first place. By the time I took power, the woman had already disappeared with our child. All I know is that it was a girl, according to the records; she hadn’t even been named.”

Paragus let out a quiet sigh beside his son, unaware of Broly’s extra knowledge. “My liege, surely you have more information than that… What of the woman? If we find her, we could find your daughter.”

Broly swallowed his nerves; he only hoped Paragus wouldn’t realise the connection between Vegeta and the dancer (if there was one) until later, once Broly had made certain himself.

“The woman, huh?” Vegeta now wore a smug expression, watching Paragus with intrigue. “I remember you greatly detested Bulma, didn’t you? She gave you quite a challenge while my father was in power.”

“Y-Yes, I do remember that, my liege…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the brat grew up to be as feisty as her; a blue-haired fiery little siren who had a sharp tongue and a terrible bite.” It seemed like recalling his partner was something of a more pleasing topic to the king, as he let out a soft chuckle. “She couldn’t hold her own in a fist fight, but she was quick with her words, that devil…”

“You said her name was B-Bulma?” Broly asked, embarrassed that he’d slipped up.

“Hn, yes. Bulma, one of the few who dared to challenge Father and I. Quite a brave human, I haven’t met anyone Saiyan or otherwise who could match her.”

“Why do you ask, Broly?” Paragus asked, curious.

“A-Ah, I’d just heard some rumours about the young princess’ mother, and I wanted to confirm their truth,” the Saiyan quickly explained. “It seems the rumours I heard were false, my apologies…”

“Hm, I see. I’ll leave you to your search then, Broly.”

The Saiyan nodded, bowing stiffly to Vegeta before darting to the door before he could be asked of anything more. As soon as he was outside the palace, he let out a shaky sigh, pulling at the bangles adorning his wrists.

_Shit, shit, shit...!_ Vegeta’s description matched Trunks’ mother perfectly! What were the odds that another blue-haired woman who went by the name of Bulma, was even living in this city? The chances were practically astronomical! Broly hadn’t met any other person, Saiyan or human, who had such striking blue hair as Bulma’s, it was too ridiculous to be considered a mere coincidence!

As he begun to make his way to Trunks’ house, his thoughts went into overdrive; he hadn’t mentioned his role to Trunks or Bulma, they had no idea that he was serving the king. And if Trunks _was_ Vegeta’s heir (which seemed almost certain at this point), he was expected to bring him to the king.

Broly was expected to lead Trunks to his father, and let him possibly be killed. Chances were that Vegeta would find Trunks to be an unworthy heir — he hardly looked like a Saiyan, his strength was likely non-existent, and his feminine appearance wasn’t threatening in the slightest — and have him executed.

The lavender-haired, gentle dancer, the teen with that kind smile and warm gaze, the one Broly had fallen in love with… He was expected to lead him to his death, just because the king would find him unsuitable as an heir.

And even if Broly didn’t turn Trunks in, odds were that Paragus would find out before long, and… The Saiyan pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to imagine what his father would do, considering his hatred for the royal bloodline; Broly wasn’t sure if he could even protect Trunks should the occasion arise.

No, for the time being, he had to confirm Trunks’ identity for himself, and then… Well, from there, he had to arrange something. He could help Trunks and his mother escape the city without being captured, or trick the public into thinking that Vegeta’s child had died. While these sounded ridiculous, Broly didn’t want to settle with “letting Trunks fall into harm”.

The mere thought of something happening to Trunks or Bulma (she was almost motherly towards Broly, although the subtle teasing sometimes ruined the idealistic picture) made Broly’s blood turn cold. He didn’t want to have another panic attack in public, so he quickly pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind before his mental condition could worsen.

He just had to ensure their safety, even if it meant giving up his own… As frightening as it sounded, Broly felt oddly determined with this mindset. He would protect them with all he had, no matter the consequences…

Even if that meant opposing his father, a man Broly had never questioned before, the Saiyan felt resolved to do so, if it was for Trunks and Bulma’s sake.

* * *

“The weather was really nice today, don’t you think?” Trunks asked the Saiyan, skipping in front of him. He held a bouquet of small white flowers in both hands, leading Broly back home as the sky turned amber and the sun began to disappear beneath the horizon.

“Mm, it was. Thank you for inviting me.” Broly responded calmly, although he wanted nothing more than to chide himself for neglecting his original purpose. Even though he’d been meaning to ask Trunks about his heritage, the lavender-haired teen had invited Broly to collect flowers for Bulma, who had since come down with a fever from overworking herself.

“I wanted to give her something to brighten her mood,” Trunks explained earlier that day, leaving his mother a note on his whereabouts. “She’s been cooped inside for a while now, so I thought that I’d go pick her some flowers that she likes; they grow just outside the city walls, and they’re blooming at this time of the year.” 

Almost feeling obligated to accompany Trunks (not just for his lover’s safety, but Bulma had treated the Saiyan so well that he felt it necessary that he offer something in return), Broly had accepted without hesitation, and the pair had spent the day outside of the stone walls, now free to wander through the lively fields complimented by a clear blue sky. The flowers were quite common, Broly learnt, as they found a group of thriving shrubs just outside the palace walls, the small bushes adorned with white budding specks, waiting to open up to the world.

Rather than end their trip so soon, Broly and Trunks instead continued to traverse the plains, eventually settling under the shade of a thick willowing tree. The tranquility of nature around them made them relax, Trunks soon falling asleep in Broly’s lap (although the Saiyan wasn’t going to tell that to his lover).

Broly gazed over Trunks’ sleeping figure; his head had fallen against the Saiyan’s chest, leaning into him with his feet stretched out like a cat’s. His hands were neatly folded on his lap, his attire today similar to his typical dancer’s outfit, only this time in a cream colour, decorated in gold trimmings. Trunks’ hair remained parted from his face, mostly because he’d tucked it behind his ears earlier when a warm breeze passed by, and the expression on his face was relaxed, comfortable, and appeared happy (if the faint smile was any indication).

The raven scanned Trunks’ soft lilac hair (still carrying the scent of fresh strawberries), his long eyelashes that flittered slightly like a butterfly’s wings, and his full lips, parted slightly to take in the fresh air. Broly looked over his lover’s form, defenceless and somewhat inviting with the untarnished, exposed parts of his skin. His delicate hands, his thin waist, his slim legs, even his scuffed feet (Trunks had been rather embarrassed when he caught Broly staring, but the Saiyan admired the dedication he put into his practice), and forced himself to avert his gaze.

As their relationship progressed, so too had rather… _lecherous_ thoughts, ones that he didn’t want to even consider at the current time. They’d been together for only a few months now, hadn’t progressed past slow, passionate kisses under the setting sun, taking it any further seemed rash and problematic. No, he wanted to take his time with Trunks, he didn’t want to rush things… 

Even as Broly had told himself that then, the pressing matter continued to nag at the back of his mind. It wasn’t like he could drag this out for an eternity, he couldn’t delay the inevitable any more than he already had.

“I had a lot of fun today—“

“Trunks,” Broly intervened, shyly grabbing onto the back of Trunks’ vest. He felt embarrassed for interrupting his lover mid-sentence, but he felt as if the matter couldn’t be put off for much longer. “Can I…ask you something personal?”

The half-blood was momentarily surprised, before he nodded, facing Broly with a curious expression. “Yeah?”

“I have to know, Trunks, I…” Broly paused, making a mental footnote of the distant pitter patter several blocks away, before he swallowed his fears. “Are you the son of King Vegeta?”

“W-What?!” Despite the confusion in his lover’s voice, Trunks was a terribly bad liar. His face reddened, and he attempted to dissuade Broly with a shaky voice. “W-W-Why would you even say something like that?! I mean, just because I’m half-Saiyan, t-that doesn’t mean I’m royalty! A-And Vegeta’s child was a girl, w-wasn’t it?” 

Broly’s heart stung as he held Trunks in place, in case the dancer attempted to run away from this accusation. Nobody had thought Vegeta’s heir to be a male due to the official birth records, but with all that the Saiyan had learnt since meeting Trunks, coupled with his uncertain response, it was clear Broly had hit his mark.

“Please listen to me, Trunks.” The Saiyan took a softer tone of voice, hoping to calm the flustered teen. “My father, Paragus, was the royal advisor for the previous king; he’s now your father’s grand vizier. He told me that he gave shelter to Bulma shortly after Vegeta’s coronation, and he hadn’t realised who you were until she called you “Truss”. That’s your Saiyan name, isn’t it?”

Although Broly’s tone was more gentle, it didn’t seem like Trunks was willing to answer; he stared at the Saiyan, as if still trying to piece together his role in all of this.

“I was asked by Vegeta to find you and bring you to him, but I’m afraid he might try to harm you… And my father will do anything he can to destroy the royal family.” Broly took a quick breath, afraid that his hold on Trunks would become bruising. “If he finds out who you are, then you might be killed, and I… I don’t want that to happen.”

The pitter patter he’d noticed earlier was slowly increasing in volume; whatever it was, it was heading towards them. Could his father have realised sooner than he’d anticipated? 

“I want to keep you and Bulma safe at all costs, Trunks. So please, run away from here. Take Bulma and hide somewhere safe, somewhere you won’t be found. I don’t want you to be in harm’s way Trunks, I… You’re too important to me.” 

It seemed the reality of the situation had begun to sink in for Trunks, his face paling and now, he grabbed at his lover’s golden chain necklace worriedly. “What do you mean “run away”? I don’t want to leave without you, Broly, I can still fight!” 

“You could die, Trunks!”

“So could you!”

“Please, Trunks!” Broly raised his voice this time, as the noise settled behind the pair. He hadn’t even needed to turn around; he already picked up on the energy levels of Vegeta’s soldiers (about a dozen Saiyans), and…

“Broly?” Paragus called out to his son in surprise. “Have you…” The Saiyan paused, his voice now taking a much more pleased tone… _He knew_. “Ah, I see now. So you were aware of the Princess’ identity all along, is that right? So all those times were spent building her trust, it all makes sense now.”

“Father, that’s not—“

“My name is Trunks!” The teen yelled back. “Whatever title you think I have is wrong; I’m male, a dancer, and a proud half-Saiyan!”

“It seems like you inherit many features of your father, Princess Truss,” Paragus said coolly. “You have his temper, his sharp tongue, and _clearly his stupidity_. Brilliant job, Broly. Now, guards: apprehend the young Princess! We mustn’t let her escape!”

Broly’s mind went blank the moment the order was announced; the soldiers yelled in excitement, their boots scratching against the stone pavement, as Trunks called out to Broly, although to the Saiyan, it was as if he was submerged in water, as he couldn’t discern a single word his lover said.

All he could hear clearly, loudly, was his heart going at a thunderous pace; his blood was sizzling, and his ki was starting to climb at an incredible pace. He felt powerless, weak, unable to protect the one that meant so much to him…

No, he wasn’t going to let this happen. He wasn’t!

Broly’s skin burnt with the sudden rush of adrenaline, like he was being swallowed up by pure, dark flame. This fire, this anger boiling, rushing through his veins, was akin to molten lava; his body stung, but he eventually felt impervious to the odd sensation. Now, it felt natural, as if his body was being fed by this fire inside of him.

He looked over to the Saiyan guards and his father, who stood before him in awe and fear Turning back to Trunks, he wore the same astonished expression, although showing no fear. “Broly… Your hair…”

The Saiyan pulled at his hair, confused as to why his once ink black locks were now a sparking jade. His hands almost seemed to be emanating electricity, as green sparks crackled around his skin. What was this…? Had this been what he’d contained for so many years? It felt like he was practically immortal, his strength at the level of a god — had he been keeping this in control all this time? Why had it kicked in now of all times?

“W-What the hell are you idiots doing?” Paragus appeared to be the first to break out of this trance, pointing to Trunks. “Remember what we came here to do! We have to bring the Princess back at all costs!” 

Something faintly echoed in the back of Broly’s mind; it was surprisingly clear despite the current situation, it felt like he’d forgotten practically everything upon realising this new power. 

_“Rumour speculates that if you are in favour of half-Saiyans, that you shall accept your child as your heir… If this is not the case, and you are against half-Saiyans, what would you do then?”_

_“I would obviously kill them before the masses.”_

Those words echoed in Broly’s mind, practically burned into his memory now. Kill… Kill who?

“Broly…” The scared voice from behind the Saiyan caught his attention, and he met a lavender-haired teen’s gaze, the male clasping a bouquet of white flowers that suited him rather well; it was a pleasant colour, he had to wonder why the other wasn’t wearing anything white. “Are you okay?”

_“How are you feeling?”_

_“N-Not many Saiyans are as thoughtful and considerate as you are, Broly. I’m… surprised.”_

_“I have a crush on you, okay? There, I said it! I’ve liked you for… a really long time. Even before we met.”_

_“What do you mean “run away”? I don’t want to leave without you, Broly, I can still fight!”_

That voice… It made Broly pause. How could he have forgotten about the one he cared about, the one he loved?

“Princess… Trunks…” He was surprised how his voice had deepened, and how _right_ it felt to say his name. “Trunks… _My Trunks_ … _My Princess…_ ”

While Trunks was tempted to correct the Saiyan, embarrassed that he’d begun to use the stupid title, he didn’t dare speak; not because of fear, but because he wasn’t certain he’d say anything worthwhile. He was as perplexed and speechless as the soldiers before them.

“They want to hurt Princess Trunks… _Mine…_ They want to hurt _mine?_ ” His tone of voice shifted once more, this time with a clear sense of venom and rage. It sent shivers down the dancer’s spine, as he looked over to the guards, who were now hesitant to approach Broly. It probably seemed like they were staring death in the face, if Trunks had to guess.

After a moment of silence, Broly turned to face Trunks; stone-faced, without pupils, and a dark scowl to emphasise what little emotion he showed — it was understandable why the soldiers were so afraid, but Trunks merely felt lost, this sudden change to his lover’s personality (and appearance) remaining unexplained.

Broly knelt before Trunks, and pressed a kiss to the dancer’s forehead. “Wait for me, Princess. Go find safe place. Broly will find you when he’s done.”

The teen didn’t need to be told twice; his cheeks flushed, he could only nod stiffly, and began to run. The chilling tone, the intent in his voice — “when he’s done” — persuaded Trunks to leave. Whatever he was going to do, no doubt he would be a hindrance to his lover.

“D-Don’t get yourself hurt, Broly!” Trunks called out to the Saiyan’s back. He knew that such words were unnecessary, what with the raw power Broly exerted, but the meaning behind his words wasn’t hard to miss. Someday, he’d work up the courage to say it, but for now, that would have to do.

Broly, heeding his lover’s advice, finally showed a new expression: a chilling smile that put his opponents on edge. The Saiyan wouldn’t have a scratch on him, but these fools… Oh, they’d be in a much worse  state…

“Harm Princess Trunks,” the Saiyan stated firmly, “you _die_ by Broly’s hand.”

The tension surrounding Broly’s opponents was thick; even Paragus was surprised at how his son had undergone such a drastic change, yet he knew the Saiyan better than anyone. His son had never fought in his life, he stood no chance against a squadron of elite royal guards.

“D-Don’t tell me you’re scared of him!” Paragus’ voice had perked up, his fear being covered up by the “encouragement” he attempted to rally to the soldiers. “Broly couldn’t kill a Saibaman, much less pose any kind of challenge! And you’re letting this stand in our way of returning the Princess?!”

The soldiers cheered, newly invigorated as they charged towards Broly, fists and ki at the ready. The Saiyan was more than prepared for their barrage of attacks, countering each punch with tremendous strength, and shaking off blasts like they were nothing. With power greater than what a Saiyan was known to have, the soldiers were ill-prepared for the fight.

Within minutes, Paragus watched the royal guard get knocked back by his son, who seemed to possess a hidden strength. Was it because he was being threatened with Princess Trunks’ life? What would happen if this power was unleashed upon the masses? What if _he_ had control of that power?

He was pulled from his thoughts — or rather pushed — as the body of one of the guards flew into him, cast aside like a rag doll. Paragus struggled to move the Saiyan, cursing as he did so. All that was really visible of the Saiyan, aside from his armour, was dark reds, and spots of white (which, Paragus realised, was bone). He could hardly be distinguished for how badly injured he was; it was a surprise he was even still alive, as he clung to Paragus desperately.

 “G-Get off me, you idiot! What the hell are you trying to do?!” Paragus snapped, finally creating some distance between them. It seemed the fight had stopped, as the light of ki blasts and the yells of fallen Saiyans disappeared into the smoke caused. Broly was likely coming to finish the job, and Paragus did not want to die with a snivelling, half-dead man in his lap.

Footsteps were quick to approach the two, the soldier ready to burst into tears at this point. While cowardly and pathetic, at this point, with what Paragus had seen, he wouldn’t blame him.

From the smoke, Broly met the two with a cold glare, his clothes and body stained with different shades of red. His hair still glowed and crackled, hardly deterred by the mess, and he appeared completely unscathed, unlike what remained of the ones he’d killed.

“Tell the maggot king that Princess is mine, and mine alone. Tell him to leave Princess Trunks, or face Broly.”

Paragus looked over to the soldier worriedly. Was he talking to him, or the half-dead Saiyan? The guard had been quiet since Broly’s arrival — did that mean he had died of his wounds?

“O-Of course, son! Of course I will! A-And everything I said about Princess Trunks, y-you can just forget about, I didn’t really mean any of it!” Paragus babbled. As it stood, he was unarmed, at a serious disadvantage, and his own son was proving to be a serious roadblock to his plans. As long as he could escape while he had the chance, save his own skin and let that bastard Vegeta take the fall, that’s what mattered! “I-I’ll be sure to tell Vegeta every—“

“Not you.” Broly turned to his father, his voice taking a more venomous tone. “Broly isn’t done with _you_.”

The soldier’s body twitched, and with a panicked squeal, he quickly made his escape. Had he been alive this entire time? Had Broly known this, and wanted to use him as an example? But then, what would happen to him?

“N-Now, now, Broly, let’s talk about this… S-Surely you wouldn’t hurt your loving father, would you?” Broly was silent, seemingly in thought; did that mean Paragus have a chance to be spared?! “W-With your strength, we could ally with Frieza and bring down Vegeta for good, just as we’d planned, right? W-We can get rid of Vegeta and his bloodline for good!”

That last part appeared to have struck a nerve, as Broly grabbed a hold of his father’s throat. His grip was suffocating, but it didn’t seem like his son wanted to end him like this.

“ _One more time_. Broly will tell you _one more time._ ” Broly’s voice almost seemed deeper to Paragus, although he could’ve easily been mistaken. “Princess Trunks is mine. Broly won’t let anything happen to mine. Broly will do anything for Princess. Broly belongs to Princess Trunks only.” 

Paragus felt a hand rest atop his head, suddenly feeling suffocated as he realised what it was his son planned to do, yet he couldn’t do a thing to stop him. As the edges of his gaze begun to fade into darkness, he saw Broly’s dark smile for the last time, and faintly heard him say something, before the hand from above crushed his skull with ease.

“Get it through your head, maggot.” The Saiyan murmured, before he found himself throwing the body aside, and disappearing from the scene.

* * *

The remains were discovered the next day; nothing more than bloodied corpses and their armour remained, the sight cleaned up shortly after. While there was some fear floating around, the majority of the population paid no interest to these mysterious deaths; a Saiyan that had been killed, was a Saiyan that was weak. Their defeat meant they weren’t worth remembering.

Broly came back to Trunks’ house early that morning, clean of his crimes. Somehow, he’d returned to his normal form amidst his sleep, the memories of the evening vivid in his mind. And for whatever reason, he didn’t feel remorse for his actions. Perhaps he felt it was the right thing to do, or he saw his opponents that night as inhumane, but whatever it was, it felt… strange. He should’ve felt bad for what he did, but why wasn’t that the case now?

The Saiyan knocked on Trunks’ door softly, worried that he’d wake up him or Bulma if he wasn’t careful. He wanted to ensure Trunks was safe, that was all; if he wasn’t here, then Broly was unsure where he could be at this time.

The door creaked open, before a hand grabbed onto Broly’s necklace and pulled him inside without a word. Broly didn’t fight back or make a sound; the soft, warm hand was one he was familiar with, and he hugged Trunks from behind as soon as they were safely inside. 

“Mom’s still asleep,” the teen whispered to his lover, shyly guiding him to his bed. Broly quickly realised Trunks hadn’t changed, nor was the bed warm. Had Trunks stayed up for him all this time? The Saiyan felt guilty for keeping the dancer anxious and awake, and he wrapped Trunks in blankets lovingly.

“I’m sorry, Trunks.”

“What for?” The dancer asked, attempting to face his lover to no success, as Broly held him in place.

“I… I killed almost every one of those soldiers, and my father. They didn’t deserve to die, did they?”

Trunks was hesitant on answering. “You did what you had to, Broly.” 

“But I… I don’t feel sad or anything. Is that normal?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure,” Trunks murmured softly, “but you did what you did because you thought it was right. And it was, when you think about it. You told me that Paragus wanted to kill me and the king.”

“But that doesn’t mean those guards…”

“Again, I can’t say for sure, but what do you think would’ve happened if you hadn’t fought? We’d both be dead, right? It was a matter of who had the stronger desire to live. That’s just how Saiyans are; they follow the idea of “survival of the fittest” — only the strongest survive.”

Broly shifted in his spot, seemingly uneasy with his lover’s casual shrug on the whole situation. “I guess so…”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel bad for what you did, Broly. I don’t want you to feel bad about that. But it’s a Saiyan’s nature to regret nothing when it comes to violence; you’re seeing it from a human point-of-view.” 

“… Is that better, or worse than a Saiyan’s, Princess?” 

Trunks let out a soft yawn, brushing off Broly’s apologies for keeping him up. “I think that seeing things from both worlds is good. A Saiyan doesn’t live with regrets, but as humans… We know that nothing can last forever, and we try to cherish whatever we have while we can. So I don’t think…you should worry about this, Broly, but instead…enjoy what you have here and…”

The dancer couldn’t finish his sentence, Broly realised with a smile, as he heard Trunks’ soft breaths throughout the stillness of the room. He carefully moved Trunks with him, so the two could lie comfortably in his bed; it was barely big enough for the pair, but Broly held Trunks close to him nonetheless.

Enjoying what he had here and now, without regrets… Broly smiled, as he fell asleep beside what he had here and now, and what he wanted to protect with all his strength.

He didn’t want to have any regrets now that his Princess was by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider this to be the "ending" of hellfire -- not saying it is, but this is basically where the story wraps up. i will be doing another chapter that's just throw in some shit and make a lemon, but otherwise, this story is technically finished.
> 
> reason why i say technically, is because exams are a bitch, and i can't guarantee i'll have the last part out in november, so i don't want to keep you guys waiting for an extra part that may be delayed until next year (not sure yet, but i'm just giving an example).
> 
> anyway, i hope you brahs enjoyed this -- i do have another short thing planned to end off the year (if pt. 4 isn't finished in time) and i'll probably give you guys a sneak peek at my plans for next year, but until then, see ya brahs. love ya all =3=


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